A Little Friendly Competition
by The Brainless Wonderr
Summary: The only reason she could produce (that could tie the facts together at least) was that Dobby had kidnapped her two best friends AND all the socks that had, up until recently, resided in their flat. Please RR!


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zip. Zero. Everything belongs to my idol J.K. Rowling. She just pities me and allows me to borrow her characters and stick them in whatever strange plot I cook up. Funny though, she never answered my request for Draco to be my personal sex slave....  
  
**A/N:** Pardon me while I take a few deep breaths. This is my first story without my beloved Draco. It came to me while I was folding the laundry. You'll see why later on. Each chapter I post will be another random competition'. Hope you enjoy my attempts at humor; pretty please review after you finish!!  
  
  
  
**Friendly Competition  
Of Socks and Men  
**  
  
  
Hermione Granger calmly buttoned her jacket as she slipped on her shoes. She blew a stray chestnut colored curl out of her face and felt her pockets for various items so she needn't bother with a handbag. Keys? Check. License? Check. Money? Both wizard and muggle, check. Muggle mobile phone? Check. Wand safely hidden inside her muggle jacket? Check! She racked her brain for anything else she might need. A sudden clap of thunder reminded her instantly and she walked from the kitchen into the little foyer near the front door. She opened a closet and triumphantly pulled out an umbrella. Muggles would find it strange if she walked through pouring rain completely dry due to a Repelling Charm. Sighing, she walked back to the kitchen and down a hallway. As she neared the last room on the left, she rolled her eyes.  
  
HAH!! Take that Mr. I-Grew-Up-Muggle-So-I'll-Definitely-Be-Better-Than-You!! Unless my eyes are deceiving me, YOU just died!!  
  
Yea, well it only took you FORTY-FIVE minutes, while normally it only takes _me_ fifteen!  
  
SO?? I still kicked your arse.  
  
Don't even -  
  
Oh, _boys_, Hermione lilted in a sing-song voice from the doorway.  
  
Harry Potter, Auror Extraordinaire, and Ron Weasley, Master Strategist for Puddlemere United, paused their banter to glance up at their best friend. Hermione grinned.  
  
I'm going to run over to take my mom grocery shopping, since the cast is still on her arm and Dad's at work, okay?  
  
Alrighty, Herms, Ron answered. His face broke out into a grin and he snuck a sideways glance at Harry. Herms, _guess_ who just got his arse kicked at Mortal Combat?  
  
Hermione sighed and decided to humor him. Gee, after all the screaming, I still have no idea, Ron. Who?  
  
The red-head grinned cheekily. Why, our very own Mr. Potter, Mione. Can you believe it? He, who said he could beat me at any video game at any time, just LOST.  
  
One could imagine Ron sticking out his tongue and chanting Na na na na na na in Harry's face. One would have seen it too, had Harry not shoved the red-head and caused him to topple over, his hair landing in a bowl of milk, left over from that morning's breakfast.  
  
What was that, Weasley? he grinned.  
  
Harry, you git, now I've got sour milk in my hair! Arsehole, Ron muttered as he searched for napkins to clean himself up. Unfortunately, the only ones he found were stained with remnants from lunch. A detail he seemed to have missed, as Harry and Hermione burst into a fit of laughter.  
  
Ron growled, then realized what he did and groaned. Oh, I give up!  
  
At least the ketchup blends in with your hair, Harry suggested with a smirk.  
  
Ron scowled and attacked him. Hermione watched in amusement as the nearby coffee table tipped over and a half full carton of chicken lo mein (you guessed it - dinner) was dumped on his head.  
  
  
  
Ron pulled himself and the noodle haired Harry into a sitting position. Harry immediately began extracting pieces of chicken, noodles, and vegetables from his hair. He looked up at his two friends through the droplets of soy sauce on his glasses. Hermione was hiding a grin behind her hand while Ron refused to look at Harry anymore.  
  
Oh, go ahead, laugh, he mumbled. Ron began rolling around and convulsing on the floor emitting hearty peels of laughter and Hermione's cheeks were red as she tried to catch her breath. As Harry attempted to clean himself, he shook his head and just joined in the laugh fest. Once Hermione was able to breathe, she cast a few spells and both young men were food-free.  
  
Thanks, Mione. You saved my favorite pajamas, Harry told her while Ron snorted in laughter again. Harry joined in and soon both were lounging on the floor as they chuckled senselessly.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. Glad to be of service, but I must get going. Maybe you two could do something productive before I get back. Like..take a shower! she suggested triumphantly.  
  
Harry and Ron abruptly stopped laughing and looked at each other.  
  
Ron started mock seriously, that would be a breach of the contract for our Lounge-Around-And-Do-Nothing Day. Anything productive is NOT allowed. You're a lawyer; you know how serious of an offense it is to break a contract.  
  
Harry sat up, his bright green eyes wide as he nodded eagerly. Yep, and you also know how we are rule-abiding men.  
  
Hermione looked between the two of them and rolled her eyes as she left the room. she called. But I love you anyway!!   
  
She paused as she neared the door. Do me a favor, she hollered, Fold the laundry, will you?? When she received no reply, she added, I'll bring home ice cream!!  
  
The faint replies came rather quickly and she giggled as she closed the door behind her.  
  
  
  
Twenty minutes later, the violent sounds of a video game were heard once again and the two men were screaming insults at each other and at the screen in front of them.  
  
I'm gonna kick your arse again, Potter, so watch out!!  
  
Oh, hell no, you won't get lucky like that again, Weasley. You don't get lucky much, he smirked.  
  
In reply, Ron just clubbed Harry's player in the crotch with a gun.  
  
Ever since Harry had taught Ron how to play Muggle video games, the latter had become obsessed. Of course, Harry only had a basic idea because he didn't get to play with Dudley's that much when he was younger, but he had strengthened his skills along with Ron. Now the two battled it out whenever possible. It drove Hermione mad. The poor girl had watched it turn into a full blown lively (and at times, vicious) competition. Her two best friends even referred to each other by their last names when playing and threw out insults to distract the other. Ginny claimed that it was Malfoy-withdrawal'. Without the blond prat to fight and compete with, she reckoned that Harry and Ron just liked to have it out with someone at times. Luckily, it was all friendly. Still, it drove Hermione to insanity at times. It took an entire day for Harry and Ron to forgive her for the one time she made the mistake of unplugging the bloody machine. Now she avoided the rec room at all costs.  
  
Oh oh oh, look at that Weasley! Looks like you're L-O-S-I-N-G. How do you like them apples?  
  
I like apples very much, Potter. They're red, His player punched Harry's. Like your little man's blood.  
  
Whoop de doo, so you punched me. Big deal, I'll get over it, Harry retorted as he fervently pushed buttons on his controller. Whoo-hoo, looks like I'm beating the shit out of you, Weasley.  
  
Ron glared at the screen. Come on you stupid bloke! Get up and punch him back! Do as I say!  
  
Harry inched his player toward Ron's and lifted his hand to strike, and....the power went out as lightning lit up the skies through the curtained window to their right.  
  
Harry wailed. Oh, Merlin! Why? Why NOW? I was about to win, mate! WIN!  
  
Uh, Harry? Ron interrupted.  
  
Harry moaned.  
  
Shouldn't we go find our wands? I feel stupid sitting in the dark.  
  
  
  
After a few bumps, bangs, and You git, that was my [insert body part]s, the two managed to stumble their way down the hall into the living room. Harry felt along the long coffeetable where he was sure he had placed his wand before the Lounge-Around-And-Do-Nothing Day had begun.  
  
It's gotta be on here somewhere, he muttered. He had just felt it when Ron tripped over something and, groping in the dark for something to grab, had gotten a hold of Harry's pant leg. The two crashed to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.  
  
Harry groaned. You're reminding me of Tonks right now.  
  
Sorry, mate, Ron apologized as he sat up and rubbed his head in the dark. I tripped over something large sitting in the middle of the floor. What idiot would leave something that large in the MIDDLE of the living room floor for me to fall over?  
  
Harry managed to re-find his wand and whispered . The sight that greeted him caused him to crack up. In the faint light, Ron looked around him.  
  
Well, I guess I found the laundry we're supposed to fold, he chuckled as he removed one of Hermione's bras that hung from his ear.  
  
Harry snickered and, using his wand, turned all the lights on with magic. Ron piled up whatever other items of undergarments had fallen out of the basket he had tripped over, and put them back.  
  
Maybe we should just get this done and over with, he proposed, indicating the laundry.  
  
Yea, you're right, Harry agreed as he crawled over to the basket. Who knows if Hermione will give us our ice cream if we don't.  
  
With a horrified glance, the boys began separating the laundry into three piles. Once they were done, Harry motioned Hermione's pile.  
  
You can do hers.  
  
Ron scrunched up his nose. Why me? You can do it. I don't know how to fold these, he said, holding up a polka dotted bra.  
  
And I don't know how to fold these, Harry smirked, holding up a green thong.  
  
Ron sniggered. Our dear innocent Hermione isn't that innocent, now is she?  
  
The two young men haphazardly folded their boxers, periodically making fun of the other's choice of pattern for the garment (Harry, why are your boxers _purple_? That concerns me mate. Oh, come off it, Ron, they're practically blue. At least they don't have little bows on them like _yours_. Those were a gift! And they're quite comfortable for your information.) They folded their assortment of guinea tees and t-shirts and stacked them carelessly on top of one another.  
  
Ron surveyed his and Harry's work and chuckled. We better put this stuff away before Hermione sees; she'll go into cardiac arrest.  
  
Harry agreed and then his face became serious. You'll have to do an impeccable job on her laundry though.  
  
Ron glared. I'm not doing it by myself, Potter. You're going to help me - or I'm stealing your ice cream.  
  
Harry pretended to look scandalized. In that case, I'll take the knickers, you take the bras.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes but said nothing. The two carefully folded Hermione's knickers, bras, and a pair of pyjamas. All that was left now were the trio's socks.  
  
Ron groaned as he stared at the sea of white in front of him. I think it's official - your socks are my socks, and mine are yours, cause I can't tell the difference.  
  
His raven-haired friend shrugged. Whatever, we'll fold them all, and then just divide them between us.  
  
They sat in companionable silence as they continuously matched pairs of socks up and stuffed one inside the other. Harry watched Ron rush through his and scrunched his nose up.  
  
You suck at folding socks together, you know that Weasley?  
  
Ron's fiery head shot up. I do not, he defended indignantly.  
  
Harry nodded his head smugly. Do too. Why, I bet I can fold socks _better_ than you.  
  
A red eyebrow rose in challenge. Is that so, Potter? _I_ bet I can fold **MORE** socks than you.  
  
Harry grinned. Bring it on, mate. Bring. It. On.  
  
  
  
Hermione entered the flat in a dismal mood. Her mother had been irritable, for which the young witch really couldn't blame her. If her dominant arm was temporarily incapacitated by a thick, heavy glove of plaster, she would have been checking herself into St. Mungo's by now. The weather wasn't helping her mood either. Her hair resembled a static light and attempting to smooth it only sent out more frizzy curls in every direction. She had a major headache due to the old woman in front of them at the grocery store register, who insisted on arguing that the catfood was on sale for 3.25 pounds a can, and not 3.30. And her feet! What in Merlin's name had possessed her to wear open backed shoes? She kicked off her shoes and left them on a rug near the door to dry. Her feet were soaked to the bone and absolutely freezing. She might have to ask Ron or Harry to take her to the hospital to remove frostbite. She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes as she journeyed to her room in search of thick, woolly, _dry_ socks.  
  
I'm home guys! she called toward the rec room as she entered her bedroom. No one replied, and she rolled her eyes. _Stupid video games._ She hastily pulled open her dresser drawer and greedily feasted her eyes on....nothing. Nothing but the bare wooden bottom of the drawer. Where the hell were her socks??  
  
She walked down to the rec room to find it empty; the telly wasn't even _on_. Her logical mind tried to put the illogical facts together. No video games, no socks. The only reason she could produce (that could tie the facts together at least) was that Dobby had kidnapped her two best friends _and_ all the socks that had, up until recently, resided in their flat.  
  
she called again as she walked back toward the kitchen. She was glad to find that her ridiculous explanation was untrue as soon as she walked into the living room. She had walked right past her two best friends. And observing the sight before her, she didn't understand how she could have missed _that_.  
  
For there in the middle of the living room floor, sat Harry Potter and Ron Weasley engaged in what seemed to be a very fierce sock folding contest.  
  
Um, guys, what the _hell_ are you doing?  
  
Neither looked at her, both concentrating on the task before them. Harry was biting his lip and Ron's tongue was hanging out of his mouth as he hastily stuffed sock after sock into other socks.  
  
Can't talk, Herms, he replied. Gotta fold the socks.  
  
Not going to do you much good, Harry taunted. Because_ I'm_ going to win.  
  
Keep telling yourself that, Potter.  
  
Hermione stood dazed as she stared at the sock cluttered floor in front of her. Then her eyes widened and she snapped out of her stupor.  
  
Where is the couch? And the coffee table? The rug? The curtains? My plant? And -- she gasped in horror, the _bookshelves_! Where are the bookshelves?!?  
  
Don't worry, Harry assured her. They're here somewhere.  
  
Hermione's eyes widened even more.  
  
Ron chimed in. We ran out of real socks, so we just transfigured everything within reach into dozens of socks.  
  
Hermione blinked and quickly walked far far away from the scene. After downing a couple of Tylenols for her now increasing headache, she reentered the living room. She began to pace in order to calm down. Suddenly she slipped on the now hard-wood floor and fell flat on her arse.  
  
she groaned.  
  
You okay? Ron asked, not seeming particularly concerned.  
  
Oh, I'm fine, bloody fine, she growled. Her socks were still wet....Well, _hello_, there were about five hundred pairs of socks staring her in the face. She reached over to take one, but was smacked immediately by Harry's hand.  
  
No, no, no! I need those, he's about four pairs of socks ahead of me, he whined.  
  
And I'm about to die of pneumonia because my feet are soaking wet! Here, I'll give you my wet pair in exchange.  
  
After about three seconds of thought, Harry conceded and the exchange was made. Hermione finally had her wool socks and she sighed as she put them on. Nothing could go wrong now.  
  
Until Harry and Ron encountered the last sock. Hermione rubbed her temples as they began to argue.  
  
It's mine, Weasley.  
  
Nuh-uh, no way, Potter. I want it.  
  
Too bad, I want to win.  
  
Hermione swiftly reached in and grabbed the sock. It's mine, she declared. Besides, it wouldn't count - you can't make a pair of socks from one sock. You prats _obviously_ lost one, she said in that bossy voice that earned her the nickname of Gryffindor Know-It-All.  
  
Ron noted. Then he grinned. I've got 267 pairs, how bout you, Potter?  
  
Harry groaned. Only 264. His eyebrow rose. But mine are folded better, so there.  
  
How do you know that? You can't just decide that.  
  
Well, you can't just decide that mine _aren't_ folded better.  
  
Hermione moaned into her hands. Why does it feel like we're twelve years old again??  
  
Ron cried.   
  
Of course! Harry agreed.   
  
Hermione just frowned.   
  
The two boys dug deep into their piles and extracted what they believed to be their best folded pair of socks, and handed them to her.  
  
they told her together.  
  
Hermione stared at both. Good Merlin, she muttered.   
  
Nonetheless, she played along and inspected each pair. She furrowed her eyebrows in thought and then glanced between them.  
  
The judge finds Mr. Harry Potter's pair of socks to be the best folded pair of socks in the room.  
  
She handed them each their pair. Harry grinned.  
  
Yep, these socks would make even Dumbledore proud.  
  
Ron pouted. Hermione patted him on the back.  
  
At least you won one, right?  
  
I guess, Ron shrugged.  
  
Hermione said happily as she used both boys' shoulders to stand to her feet. She leaned down and whispered, Now change everything back.  
  
Harry and Ron groaned. Hermione grinned and patted them both on the head.  
  
I'm going to bed, have fun! She paused at the entrance to the hallway. You two are nutters, you know that?  
  
Harry grinned. And we're damn proud of it, Mione. Good night!  
  
As soon as she disappeared, Ron looked at Harry and winced. You do realize she's going to kill us, right?  
  
_WHERE IN THE BLOODY HELL IS MY BED??_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
*_*_*  
Wow, that was a lot of fun to write, lol. But Harry, Ron, and Hermione are probably all OOC, and the idea is positively wacky and crazy. I have a few more competitions' I'm going to write about, but if you have a suggestion, leave it in a review and maybe I can bring it to life in a future chapter ^_~ 


End file.
